


Sight

by dassala



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Violence, F/M, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 23:57:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12493792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dassala/pseuds/dassala
Summary: A beautiful woman is found next to a murder victim, the gun in her hand. But is she the culprit?A CS Halloweek Mystery





	Sight

**Author's Note:**

> My sincerest apologies to David Nolan for making him a bit of a dolt.

Lungs burning, heart pounding, and bare feet stinging as she sprinted across town, Emma Swan turned onto Mayor Mills’ street. She could see the glow of the street lamps on the stark white house as she gave every last ounce of her physical strength to make it there in time. Pushing past the open gate, Emma saw the dim light streaming through the open front door. The blood. So much blood. And then darkness.  


\--  


Pulling on a pair of black latex gloves, Detective Killian Jones ducked under the yellow caution tape which barricaded the front doorway of Regina Mills’ house. His polished black oxfords moved pointedly across the pristine white marble floors until coming to a stop where the stone was staining red-brown with rapidly-cooling blood.  


“Ding-dong, the witch is dead,” Officer Nolan sang softly as he readied a digital recorder for Detective Jones’s notes. Jones shot the young officer a glare before beginning his assessment. Nolan cleared his throat and went silent.  


“Deceased female, identified as owner of the home, Regina Mills, aged thirty-eight,” he began, stepping slowly around the body. “Miss Mills lives at the residence alone. Unknown associates at this time. Pronounced dead at the scene. Cause of death presumably gunshot to the chest. Through-and-through. Projectile buried in wall directly behind where victim fell.”  


“Should be a pretty short case, Sir,” Nolan noted, rocking on his feet. He tucked his unoccupied thumb into his belt loop, balancing the small recorder in the other. “Assailant is in my car.”  


With a nod, Jones knelt beside the dead woman, whose brown eyes stared lifelessly up into her expensive chandelier. He reached out, brushing her eyelids closed, giving her the appearance of someone in a deep slumber. “Rest well, Miss Mills,” he muttered, then stood again. “Coroner can have her, but watch the floor when you move her. I want the team to sweep the entire room. Anything out of place could be a clue.”  


“Clue?” Nolan followed, flipping off the recorder.  


“Yes, to what exactly went on, here,” Jones muttered, ducking back under the tape and tugging at the gloves on his hands. “That’s what a detective does, Nolan, he looks for clues.”  


“Well, Miss Swan shot her,” David shrugged and frowned, “I don’t know what else you need.”  


Stopping on a dime, Jones turned, just barely allowing Nolan time to avoid walking directly into him. “Nolan, if you’re going to continue your career in law enforcement, please make sure you start examining every angle before you come to a conclusion.”  


The young man smiled and nodded, looking a bit sheepish.  


“I’ll meet you at the station. Bring, um, Miss Swan, you said? We’ll stick her in the tank and interrogate her,” Killian turned back and strolled down the sidewalk toward his shiny black sedan.  


\--  


Coffee-in-hand, Detective Jones stepped up to the two-way mirror and watched the confused-looking blonde as she took a seat at the table. The deputy adjusted the young woman’s hands, removing her cuffs carefully before he exited the room. Jones noted her high cheekbones, somewhat messy blonde locks, and incredibly bright green eyes. She sat silently, staring almost directly at him, as if she could see him through the glass. He took a sip of his coffee and fidgeted with her file before moving into the small interrogation room.  


“Hello, Miss Swan,” he took a seat across from her and leaned back, unbuttoning his suit jacket. “Are you comfortable?”  


Emma Swan shrugged and reached up to rub the back of her head, presumably a nervous tick.  


“My name is Detective Killian Jones,” he opened the file on the table in front of him and pulled out a few photographs. One was a mugshot of a much younger-looking Emma, and two were shots of the newly-deceased Mayor. Emma flinched slightly and turned away from the more gruesome photos. “Do you remember what happened this morning?”  


Shaking her head quickly, Emma buried both hands in her lap and took a deep breath. She then licked her lips and spoke. “I remember waking up on the floor of Regina’s house, that’s all,” she muttered. Her tone was low, and her voice trembled slightly with fear.  


“Did you wake on your own?” he leaned forward slightly, watching the pretty young thing in front of him. She reached back to rub at her head again. The movements were not quite as jerky as say, an addict, but there was something amiss about the girl.  


“Um, no, that um, that cop woke me up,” she replied, gesturing toward the two-way mirror, again as if she could clearly see right through it. “Nolan, he said.”  


“And did Officer Nolan ask you why you were there?”  


Emma nodded. She looked as if she was making an attempt to relax. Leaning back in her chair, she finally glanced up from the table to make eye contact with the detective. “Yes,” she replied, her voice calming slightly. “I told him I didn’t know.”  


“You don’t know why you were at Miss Mills’ house at six in the morning on a Saturday?” Killian’s eyebrow arched as he maintained a steady gaze into her eyes. “Is it possible that you went to Miss Mills’ house to confront her about something?”  


Emma shook her head slowly. She was taking in slow, deliberate breaths, as if attempting to steady herself. “No, I must have been there for another reason. I ran there, I know that.”  


“Your feet,” he noted, gesturing under the table. His deputy had photographed her raw, scratched feet before the EMT bandaged them. They were completely bare at the scene. A run at six in the morning was not unheard of, but doing it barefoot?  


“Yes, they kind of hurt,” she frowned. “Could I have a cup of coffee, Officer Jones?”  


Killian opened his mouth to correct her on his rank, but ignored that particular impulse for the moment. “Ah, sure. I’ll be right back,” he stood and left the room, closing the door behind him.  


“How did she know I was there?” Nolan asked from in front of the glass as Killian walked past him.  


“She guessed, Nolan,” he muttered, shaking his head, “I think most people know that the mirror in an interrogation room isn’t actually a mirror.”  


“Oh,” Nolan nodded and turned back to Emma.  


Killian poured a cup of coffee and grabbed a handful of creamers and sugar packets before moving back to the interrogation room. He paused, watching Nolan, whose head was slightly cocked as he stared through the window at their suspect.  


Emma still sat at the table, but she appeared to be speaking to someone. Intensely, as a matter of fact. However, the chair across the table was empty.  


“Turn it up,” Killian directed the young officer, who adjusted the volume on the room’s audio system.  


“I told you I don’t remember,” Emma hissed. She flattened her palms on the table. “How am I going to convince them of that if I can’t even think of why I would have gone to your house? It’s not like I even…we weren’t friends or anything.”  


“Does she…” Nolan trailed off.  


“She thinks she’s talking to the victim,” Killian whispered. “You’re recording this, right?” The officer nodded in reply.  


“Well they’re not going to believe that. If you hadn’t spent half your life harassing me for no good reason,” Emma continued after a short pause, “maybe I’d have a better explanation for this.”  


“Why is it that the beautiful ones are always nuts?” Killian asked Nolan before opening the door to the interrogation room.  


“Emma, are you alright?” He placed the coffee cup down in front of her. Her posture sank slightly and she looked at the cup.  


“Thanks,” she said, quiet once again. “I’m not the best. I’m stuck here, talking to you about...Regina.”  


Killian shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it over the back of the chair without sitting. He leaned down, fingers drumming against the metal backing. “You say your name as if you didn’t really like her.”  


“I can’t say we get along very well,” Emma grumbled. He remained quiet for a moment, watching as she shot a glare to a spot just to his left. She was continuing to refer to the deceased in the present tense. As if...she was still around. Killian glanced in the direction of Emma’s gaze, and then back at the young woman herself.  


“Who is here with us, Emma?” He narrowed his gaze as he watched her. “You seemed to have been talking to someone while I was out there.”  


Emma pursed her lips and leaned forward, cupping her hands around her coffee. “I think you know. Regina.”  


“Regina is here? In this room?” he tapped the table with his index finger.  


She nodded slowly. “She wants me to tell you who killed her. I told her it’s not going to work, since I don’t really have any way to defend myself.”  


“Well, you were in her house with her, gun-in-hand,” he shrugged. “Doesn’t look good. But I’ve got an open ear for you.”  


“Exactly, see?” She spoke to his left but gestured to him. After a moment, her gaze narrowed and she shook her head. “I am not doing that.”  


“Doing what?” Killian pulled out his chair again and sat, fascinated by her dialogue with someone he was unable to see.  


“I -- no, she wants me to say something inappropriate,” Emma turned pink and shook her head, declining to answer that particular question. “Regina says Mr. Gold shot her.”  


“Mr. Gold? Robert Gold, who owns the pawn shop?” Both of his eyebrows raised and he blinked a few times. “Why does she think he would kill her?”  


Emma looked back over to Killian’s left, but this time, her gaze moved up over him, then down to his right. “She says...he was upset that she won the election.”  


He might have been new to town, but Killian recalled there had been a mayoral election the week prior to the crime. Miss Mills, the incumbent party, had won her position for another four years. Robert Gold had been the only opposition. Politics never came without some sort of scandal, but a murder in such a small town?  


“Okay, so that still doesn’t tell me what you were doing there, Miss Swan,” he narrowed his gaze at her. “Records show me that you have a history with Miss Mills. You filed claims on multiple occasions, stating that she was harassing you. What reason would she have to do that?”  


Brows furrowing, Emma shrugged. “She didn’t like me because of my...job.”  


“Your job?”  


Once again, she appeared to be listening to someone Killian could not see. After rolling her eyes, she responded, “I’m a Medium.”  


“A...fortune teller?” Killian’s brows lifted.  


Shaking her head, Emma sighed. “No, I can speak to the dead. I...I only get visions of the future on occasion. Like if someone makes a decision to turn left, rather than right and heads out of town. Reflects a change in destiny. Could be something happening at the moment somewhere else, or it could be a few months from now. So I wouldn’t be able to pull off the whole crystal ball thing.”  


“I guess that’s apt, since you’re speaking to Miss Mills now?”  


“Ironic, more like. She never believed in my abilities,” Emma smirked at no one in particular, “See? I don’t seem so fraudulent now, do I?”  


“Tell you what,” Killian chuckled and leaned back in his chair, “I’m going to leave you to chat things out with Miss Mills and I’ll go interview Robert Gold.”  


“Sounds good,” Emma nodded, running her fingers through her hair, “I’d make sure you talk to Mrs. Gold, too.”  


“Thanks for the tip,” Killian smirked and stood, grabbing his jacket before leaving.  


\--  


“I am very sorry to hear about Miss Mills, Detective, but I’m afraid I cannot help you,” Robert Gold sighed, placing a cup of tea down in front of the police officer. “I was at home all night.”  


“Mrs. Gold, can you verify this for me?” Killian asked to the petite brunette hovering in the rear of the kitchen.  


Belle Gold shifted her weight from one hip to the other and nodded quietly. She tugged a shawl a bit more tightly around her shoulders. “Yes, he was here all night.”  


Killian picked up the tea cup before him and took a small sip. He nodded and gave the man across the table a polite smile. “Your relationship with Miss Mills...it was somewhat volatile, was it not?”  


Gold’s eyebrow raised slowly and he shook his head. “I wouldn’t use such words to describe it, but we did not always see eye-to-eye. We were on opposite ends of the political spectrum, you see.”  


“Do you sell guns in your pawn shop, Mr. Gold?” Killian continued. He opened the manila folder he had brought along, “Sorry, I guess that’s a silly question. Of course you do, since you reported one stolen.”  


Leaning back in his chair, Gold nodded. Killian watched out of the corner of his eye as Belle exited the room. He glanced back to Gold, who shrugged. “Yes, I did. Reported it stolen last week.”  


“The morning of the election results,” Detective Jones licked his lips, “was anything else taken in the robbery?”  


“A pocket watch and a gilded letter opener,” Gold sighed. “You have all of this in your report, Detective. Can I help you with anything else?”  


“Mm, no,” the younger man smiled and closed the file. “Thank you for your hospitality.” He stood from the table and headed for the front door. Mrs. Gold stood in the living room, adjusting her shawl. Unfortunately, she was not quite quick enough to hide the bruises along her collarbone.  


“If you can think of anything to help our case, Mrs. Gold, you know where to find me,” Killian said quietly as Robert Gold stepped up behind him.  


“Thank you,” the older man answered on behalf of his wife, who remained silent.  


\--  


Upon his return to the station, Nolan ushered Emma back into interrogation. She rubbed slowly at her eyes, which had dark circles beneath them.  


“I spoke with Mr. Gold,” he began, taking a seat across from her. Emma looked up at him, groggily. He gave her a slight smile, in spite of trying to be professional. “I think you’re onto something with Mrs. Gold.”  


Emma shrugged and drew a deep breath, “She’s a battered woman. I know that look.” With her long, thin fingers, Emma drew invisible circles on the table top. “You found out about the gun, I assume?”  


He nodded carefully, “It was reported stolen from Mr. Gold’s shop last week.”  


“How convenient for him,” Emma replied sarcastically with a tilt of her head. “Listen, what do you want from me? I told you what Regina told me, and I’m completely innocent.”  


“I want you to prove to me that you’ve spoken with Regina,” he sighed, after some thought. “Because you with this gun just makes it look like you stole it.”  


Licking her lips slowly, Emma cleared her throat. “Well, for starters, Regina told me you think I’m ‘beautiful and nuts’.”  


The wording was exactly as he had put it. Blinking, he wondered if she was able to hear the staff conversations on the other side of the glass.  


“She says...and these are her words...that you’d better ask me out after all of this has cleared up, because she wants to make things right with me,” the pretty blonde blushed as she said it, shaking her head. “But that’s just what she says.”  


Heat rose into Killian’s cheeks. He lowered his gaze and shifted in his seat. “Miss Swan, can you tell me more about last night? What you were doing?”  


“I was --” Emma’s recollection was cut off as a knock sounded from the door. Nolan gave a small wave at Killian through the window.  


“Excuse me,” he smiled sheepishly and stood, stepping out of the room.  


At a desk in the bullpen sat Mrs. Belle Gold. She held a small box in her lap. As he got closer, he saw a red welt around her left eye. She had just recently been hit, and hard.  


“Mrs. Gold,” he greeted her softly as he approached, sitting across from her, “are you okay? Can I get you some medical attention for that?”  


“No,” Belle replied, lifting her watery eyes to his, “just put him away and make it stop.” She lifted the box onto the desk and slid it toward him.  


With a quirk of his eyebrow, Killian opened the wooden box. Inside was a pocket watch and a gold letter opener. An impression in the velvet lining showed the outline of a handgun.  


“I found it in the back of his closet this morning after you left,” she said, her voice trembling. “He killed her and he tried to pin it on that girl.”  


A feeling of relief washed over him as he closed the box. He moved out of the chair and knelt in front of the woman, watching a tear roll down her cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered, careful not to touch her. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her any discomfort. “And if you’re sure you don’t need any help, I will send Officer Nolan to arrest your husband on suspicion of murder.”  


“Just get him out of my life,” Belle sobbed quietly, putting her face in her hands.  


Standing, Killian turned to Nolan, who was approaching with a file. “Serial numbers match on the gun found with Swan and the one stolen from Gold.”  


“Good,” the Detective nodded, “take a few other men and arrest Gold on murder charges.”  


Nolan grinned and hurried off to his task as Killian made his way back to the interrogation room. He was almost giddy at the idea that Emma was innocent. Perhaps he would take Regina’s advice from beyond the grave. That was, if Emma had any attraction to him whatsoever, after such an interrogation. As he stepped into the room once more to release the prisoner, his eyes widened.  


Emma was collapsed on the floor, having slumped out of her chair.  


“Call a squad!” He shouted out the door, hurrying to her side. She had gone incredibly pale, and her skin was positively icy beneath his touch. “Emma! Emma, wake up!”  


\--  


“Can I get you anything, hun?” The nurse asked as she tapped Emma’s vitals into the bedside computer.  


Killian looked up and shook his head, “Thank you, no.”  


Emma groaned softly and tried to sit up in the bed, her eyes fluttering open.  


“Hey, there you are,” Killian smiled and leaned in slightly, “careful you’ll pull your line out. You’re in the hospital.”  


“I remember,” she muttered in response, blinking a few times as her eyes adjusted to the light. She turned her head toward him, “I remember why I was there.”  


“You do?” His eyebrows lifted in surprise as he watched her. “I mean, that will certainly help clarify things, but we’ve arrested Robert Gold for the murder.”  


“Good,” she nodded her head, “I was there because I had a vision.”  


Watching the young woman, whose color was slowly returning to her features, the Detective cocked his head to the side. “I thought you said you didn’t see the future?”  


“I see...moments of intense passion, when things change in the universe that would influence an outcome. I don’t always remember them. I definitely pass out from them, though,” she glanced around the room.  


“And you had a vision of Miss Mills’ murder?”  


She nodded in reply. “I saw him, in a rage, forcing his way into the house. He shot her. I had tried to get there to stop it. I ran as soon as I came to. But I was too late. When he saw me, he hit me on the back of the head with his cane and knocked me out. He put the gun in my hand to frame me for it,” she sighed. “Poor Regina.”  


“Well, that is certainly something I can put in the report to explain things,” he smirked, “I don’t know if they’ll buy that you had a vision, but I’m glad to know you were in the house because you thought you could stop the murder. Rather than committing it.”  


“I’m not a killer,” Emma reiterated and licked her lips slowly, wetting them. “How long have I been out?”  


“Four hours, we think,” he reached for a cup of water on her bedside table and held it out for her. “Do you have a boyfriend, family we can call?”  


Emma shook her head slowly, taking the cup from his hand.  


“So, when you passed out at the precinct, was that from a vision as well?”  


Peering at him over the rim of the cup as she took a sip from it, Emma nodded slowly.  


“And? Another murder?”  


She handed the cup back to him and folded her hands over the incredibly uncomfortable hospital gown she wore. “No, they’re not always bad things. Just intense moments.”  


“Right, moments of passion, I think as you put it,” he nodded. “So then...what was it?”  


As color rose into her cheeks, Emma diverted her gaze from him. “Well, I mean, it potentially makes sense if I received it at the moment that you decided to believe me.”  


“Okay?” His gaze narrowed, “So what does that mean?”  


“...I prefer not to say.”  


“Are you involved?” If the vision was not anything tragic or horrifying, why on Earth was this woman being so evasive?  


“Yes. As are you,” she replied cooly, still not looking at him.  


Killian Jones watched the beautiful young woman with curiosity for a moment before his features broadened with a look of realization. “Oh. OH.” An intense moment of passion featuring the two of them was...a very favorable outcome for the situation. He flushed, scratching behind his ear nervously.  


“T-things can change, mind you,” Emma stammered slightly, finally looking at him once more. Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment, and she was heartily amused at his reaction. “These things are never certain…”  


“Well...I...I assume if that’s the way things are headed, we should maybe start with dinner? Put Miss Mills’ mind at ease?” He finally managed, after a moment. He watched a sparkle return to her soft green eyes, and she ran a hand through her long blonde locks.  


Emma bit down on her lower lip and grinned, “I think she’d be pleased.”  



End file.
